


doch der haifisch lebt im wasser(so die tränen sieht man nicht)

by poutynymphet



Series: why did you steal my cotton candy heart? [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, Cousin Incest, Infidelity, Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poutynymphet/pseuds/poutynymphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you don't need to be loved, but you do relish in being needed</p>
            </blockquote>





	doch der haifisch lebt im wasser(so die tränen sieht man nicht)

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, the story from Tom's POV. Thank you for your comments and kudos.  
> The title is from Rammstein's song Haifisch(Shark) and it translates to but the shark lives in the water(so no one sees its tears).

Family reunions are what you dread, ever since your mother decided to just leave one day and the calls turned to letters and the letters turned to store-bought birthday cards signed with a quick, scribbled _Mom_.  You take Abraxas with you because he is a multifaceted diamond, only reflecting the best of you which makes it easier to pretend you don’t see your father is the only one missing at the table. He probably can’t find the time between long office hours, scotch and the next botox bimbo that latches on to him. And Harry, sweet, innocent Harry laughs at something uncle James says in-between bites and his white, gleaming teeth shine. You dream of pulling them one by one.

Instead, you writhe and moan under Abraxas as the cheap neon lights cast shadows on your pale body. You let go of every shred of yourself and he pieces you together, he is the hands that hold up your crown. Abraxas is dear to you like every first successful experiment is dear to the doctor so you let him have this, you let him lick the fire on your lips and destroy your composure from within. But you aren’t quite present with your thoughts. You think of Harry, humble, shy Harry and the way his heart may ache in the room downstairs. You let out a laugh then, a small, fluttering thing, tinged with pleasure and you let yourself sink into the bed even more, begging for more.

You look in the mirror after with bright eyes, your hair a wild nest(just like _his_ ) and you tell yourself that you will be Harry Potter’s ruin.

It doesn’t sound true but you repeat it until it does.

* * *

 

Narcissa is the sun, very bright, burns too fast and Bellatrix is the moon, always present whether the fire in your eyes illuminates her or not. People might think you are like Bellatrix but you take that as an insult. She might be useful but you would never just not calculate the outcome and ignore the risk just for the thrill. You see yourself in prim, proper Narcissa, the golden child of her parents who you woo with wine and flowers and the way she looks at you, with her baby blue eyes, in her plaid skirt and Mary Janes feeds the fire in you that Bellatrix extinguishes with the yearning, lost way she looks at you. When you see Bella carve your initials in her desk, you want to scream because this is not what you want. You don’t need love, you just relish in being needed.

You can’t go too fast with Narcissa who gets more vocal with every kiss and touch you bestow upon her which feels like you are peeling every layer of her. You slide your hand up her thigh until she sighs and falls back against the bench. You don’t like pleasing people just for the sake of it, because it might make them feel good. You just like the way Narcissa pulls on your hair and begs you so sweetly, she needs you(not that boring fool Lucius) and you work her with your fingers and tongue until she is a screaming mess, until you’ve broken this sweet, golden girl who now holds onto you, head buried in your chest, trembling like she is suffocating and you are her oxygen. Your victory is short lived because you see a person with a mop of dark, wild hair disappear, closing the door behind him in a haste.

You know he has seen everything in that accusatory look he gives you, perfect, chivalrous Harry who would never date a girl and fuck her sister, hero Harry who would never sit at the highest step and arrange his friends like chess pieces to his liking. You don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has thrown you off balance.

Instead, you let Bellatrix, always eager, clingy Bellatrix kiss you but you still trail your fingers down sweet, now not-so-virginal Narcissa’s thigh. You relish in the way everyone looks up at you, the way Bellatrix notices the hand on Narcissa’s thigh and smiles at you through her tears and the way Narcissa ignores Lucius, stupid Lucius who tries to get her attention.

You look in the mirror and see your father and you tell yourself you aren’t like him.

It doesn’t sound true and no matter how many times you repeat it, it still doesn’t.

* * *

 

He does end up throwing you completely off balance when he places his lips on yours, it’s a desperate call, it’s a drowning man’s plea that makes you smile like a child, because even Harry, perfect Harry wants you, needs you as he tells you over and over again. You trace patterns  on his stomach and your stomach sinks, like when you suddenly plunge down on a rollercoaster ride. You don’t understand why you wanted stupid Harry to resist, to build a wall between you too, to be the better person. You want to tear down the entire room and scream and stupid Harry looks at you just like Bellatrix so instead  you smile, a wicked slash across your face. _You don’t know me and you never will_.

You look into the mirror and congratulate yourself on your victory.

It doesn’t sound true. You don’t care.

* * *

 

The next day you let Abraxas lead you into the supply closet in a vain attempt to fill the hollowness in your chest.

You don’t dare look into the mirror.


End file.
